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Ahsoka wasn’t just a bright-eyed youngling. She’d seen terrible things, survived situations anyone else might call hopeless, fought for her life, and fought for the lives of others, too. She was a commander in the Grand Army of the Republic, and she stood at the side of some of the biggest names the Republic had ever known. She fought with and learned from people who were larger than life, and she knew her own name had started to carry some weight, too. She was capable, she was confident, but she still paled in comparison to the people around her, Jedi and politicians alike. Some days it felt like she was part of an unstoppable machine, one that would spread across the galaxy until every system knew freedom, until every planet was purged of the Separatist blight.
And then there were days like today. Days she remembered she was just sixteen, and not everyone she knew was untouchable.
She couldn’t breathe. Well, she could, obviously, she was still doing it, she still felt her lungs expand and contract, felt them fill and empty, but it felt like they weren’t. No breath was enough; no slow, measured inhale, no careful, counted exhale, no desperate gasp, no painful fight for air could relieve the pressure in her chest. Nothing could relieve the hurt she felt. It was trapped inside of her, caged by her ribs, cushioned by her lungs, and beat in time with each devastating pulse of her heart. Something was holding her underwater, and she was losing the struggle to a surface she wasn’t sure existed.
Her face was cold. Her skin was sticky, and it pulled tight when she made a face. She’d washed the blood from her hands, but not the tears from her cheeks. There was no point– they’d come again.
She’d been crying off and on for hours. For hours she’d sat on her bed in the dark, silent, even as the tears came back, even as the shaking in her shoulders returned until subsiding once more. She was silent, but there was no one to hear her, anyway. She was alone.
And that was just it, wasn’t it? Ahsoka was alone.
The funeral had been hurried. Only those who were already on Coruscant were able to attend, something that seemed cruel to Ahsoka. Who was the Council to deny mourning to any of his friends? To the ones still on their home planets, to the ones who had been sleeping when the news was announced, to the ones spread across the galaxy, who could not cross it before the funeral began? She knew attachment was forbidden in the Jedi Order, but these were not his attachments; they were those of his friends. They loved him, and they deserved the chance to grieve.
Fresh tears slipped down her cheeks, following the paths carved by those of the hour before, and the hours before that.
She wanted to be the Jedi she was supposed to be, had been taught to be, but how could she? She realized she still didn’t know how. One of the men who was supposed to show her could not help her with this, and the other was dead.
Being upset about Obi-Wan’s death felt silly in the face of what exactly Anakin had lost. When Obi-Wan had fallen into that pile of crates, when he had not gotten up afterwards, Ahsoka had managed to choke down her emotion. She had moved the debris away, made space so that she could assess the situation. It wasn’t until she tried to feel for his pulse, until she tried to listen for his breath, until she watched how he lay very, very still, that fear sparked in her chest, as her out-of-control heart sent panic roaring through her veins.
“Master?” she’d whispered, and Obi-Wan had not responded.
Then she’d pulled him onto her lap, gently, pulled him closer, looking for any sign of life. Any ghost of a breath, any movement beneath his eyelids, any warmth to his skin, but there was none. He looked so peaceful, he could have been sleeping, but– he was pale, cold was taking over his body inch by inch, and the blood seeping from his clothes to hers was very real. She’d had no words, couldn’t rationalize what she was seeing, not until Anakin appeared at her side.
“How is he?” She turned to him, but her mouth wouldn’t move, her throat refused to make a sound. “Obi-Wan?” And she felt silly. This was Anakin’s master, his friend; how dare she react like this? She’d seen Anakin upset before, but the tone of his voice broke the flood barrier, and her tears spilled down, down, to rain on Obi-Wan’s face.
Anakin had collapsed to his knees, took Obi-Wan in his own hands, trying to rouse him, to bring him back to them. As Anakin cried out frantically for his master, Ahsoka had squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stop the quaking sobs that so desperately fought to escape her. She didn’t want to disturb Obi-Wan.
At the funeral, she’d meant what she said to Master Plo– she really was worried about Anakin. She’d told Master Plo that Anakin hadn’t spoken a word since it happened– she couldn’t bring herself to say since Obi-Wan died. He had screamed himself hoarse over Obi-Wan, begged him not to leave him, to come back, sobbed as sirens flashed around them, and then he’d been silent.
So she sat in her room, alone. She’d tried to speak with Anakin, tried to, she didn’t know, be there for him, but he’d given her one look and she knew he wanted to be alone. He’d stood alone at the funeral, too; not even with Padmé, who Ahsoka knew that he not-so-secretly adored. Padmé had given Ahsoka her condolences, then Ahsoka saw her recieve much the same look from Anakin. It was clear; there was nothing anyone save for Obi-Wan himself could do for him.
Ahsoka wiped her tears as they slowed once more. Her room was still dark, still quiet, and she was still alone.
Even Master Plo hadn’t had much to offer her. He’d stood by her side at the funeral, listened to her concerns, but he seemed– off. His hug afterward was cursory, and while his apology certainly wasn’t empty, it did nothing to make her feel better. She didn’t even feel the usual burst of warmth when he used the nickname he’d given her.
It had been hours since the funeral, and only a few more than that since the galaxy had lost Obi-Wan. She didn’t know how it was supposed to go on without him. She couldn’t breathe.
What if it had been Anakin?
She sat up. Her spine cracked as it straightened, complaining every inch of the way after being bent for so long. She didn’t know where Anakin was, and she doubted he was ready to speak to her, but she took what little comfort she could in knowing that, for the moment, he was still alive. He was still with her.
Her quarters were suffocating. But she couldn’t turn to Anakin, not yet. Master Plo hadn’t exactly dismissed her, but he was clearly preoccupied with something else. And Obi-Wan was dead. Where could she go?
And that’s how she found herself knocking on the door to his quarters.
She was rarely cold, but she’d brought her cloak with her, anyway, and wrapped it tight around herself. She was rarely nervous, too, but as she waited for the door, she felt something squeeze around her, felt something constrict her chest and lungs, felt something in her veins urging her to flee. And then the door opened.
“Kid?” Rex said.
Ahsoka blinked. She’d just– ended up here. She had no idea what to say. “Hi.” It was a single syllable, but it still rasped in her throat, felt like razor blades and broken glass as it was pushed out of her chest.
Rex stepped aside. “Come in.”
As a captain, Rex was lucky enough to get his own quarters, but they weren’t exactly extensive. Ahsoka stared at the room, more out of a loss for what to do or say than any real curiosity, but then its occupant was frowning, looking at her with an expression she’d only seen once or twice, but couldn’t quite place…
She knew he’d spoken with Commander Cody after he’d received the news, after the funeral, and he must’ve just gotten back– he was still wearing his armor. His eyes were unbelievably soft, his brows just barely furrowed, and oh, yeah. That was the look– the oh, this poor shiny, the this trooper isn’t going to make it, the you shouldn’t have to live through this look. And here he was, using it on Ahsoka, Ahsoka who had shown up unannounced on his doorstep and invaded his private space.
Shit, she really wasn’t thinking.
“Oh,” she said. “I’m sorry, Rex, I shouldn’t be here. I’ll just–”
She turned to leave, but before she had fully completed the movement, he caught her by the shoulder, though his hand barely touched her. “No,” he said. “It’s alright. It’s…been a long day.”
As she watched him, unsure, he forced a smile. It was terrible, it was the fakest smile she’d seen in her life, but– he made it for her. She swallowed. “I– I don’t know what to do.”
Rex just nodded. He pulled out the chair at the tiny desk in the corner of the room and gestured to it, and Ahsoka only hesitated another moment before she sat. He knelt before her, which she normally would’ve flicked him on the head for, but in that moment she was glad to be on the (more or less) same level as him. He studied her for a moment. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
She tried to take a deep breath, but it was caught on a sob before she’d breathed all the way in. “Obi-Wan is dead,” she whispered. Oh, it hurt to say. Not just because it was true, because he was dead, but because of what it meant.
“I know.”
“He’s dead,” she repeated. “He’s– he’s Obi-Wan Kenobi, he’s not supposed to die. No one is, but– but he’s Obi-Wan.” She felt an increasingly familiar warmth behind her eyes, and she felt the tears well up, felt them catch on her eyelashes, gathering but refusing to fall. “We hear stories, you know? When we’re little, in the crèche, we hear about the other Jedi. We hear about Master Yoda, and Master Windu, and Master Secura, and all the others, and we hear about the things they’ve done. And of course we heard about Master Kenobi. We all wanted to be him.”
She laughed a little, even as the tears rolled down her cheeks. Following the paths of those of hours before, forming paths for the tears of hours to come.
“He killed a Sith lord when he was still a padawan, did you know that? He’d lost his master, too, and he agreed to train Anakin. That was very controversial, I think, but I was little when it happened. I don’t remember if Master Plo had even found me yet. But a lot of the younglings were jealous. Everybody wanted to be his padawan. And he fought in the first Battle of Geonosis– you were there, right?” Rex nodded. “We heard about the fight, and we heard about everything else he’d done. He just.” She smiled, even as tears fell off her lip, spilled onto her teeth, her tongue. “He’s Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. He always sounded, I don’t know, larger than life.”
Ahsoka blinked as Rex stood up, but he returned quickly. He handed her a glass of water. “Drink,” he commanded.
“Oh,” she said. “Thank you.” She took a careful sip, and it was like unleashing something animal inside her. She hadn’t realized how dry her tongue was, had forgotten how sweet water could taste; she had already grown accustomed to the salt of tears. She drained the glass quickly. Rex took it from her and set it aside when she was done, then resumed his kneeling position.
“You can keep talking.”
“Oh.” She shook herself. “Obi-Wan just…hearing about him, it felt like he could move the stars if he wanted. He was so good at everything, and so many people looked up to him. So many people were his friend. And now he’s just…gone.”
Ahsoka was getting really tired of crying, you know.
She wiped her eyes hastily as they burned once more. “He’s gone and I don’t know what to do. And I shouldn’t feel this way, I know that. I’m not supposed to get this upset about anyone, actually, but I am and it doesn’t feel fair. Why should I get to be upset? I didn’t know him half as well as any of the people at his– his funeral.” She hiccuped. “He was Anakin’s master, he– he knew him for a decade, they met when Anakin was so little. He was–” She buried her face in her hands, suddenly ashamed, but unable to stop the sobs from overtaking her. “He was his best friend, Rex, and now Obi-Wan’s gone, and how can I be upset? I haven’t lost nearly as much as Anakin. And I’m scared! What if– if a sniper can kill Obi-Wan– what if something happens to Anakin?”
“Kid.” Rex’s voice was so soft, so gentle, it almost pained her to hear.
“What would I do? He’s my master, he’s my– how can Obi-Wan just be dead, Rex?” She bit her lip, trying to stem the tide, to stop the hideous quaking as she gasped for air in between sobs, to stop her from spilling every fear that had been playing on repeat in her mind since Obi-Wan had fallen from that rooftop. “How can he just be gone? And does it– does it make me terrible, if I’m glad it was him, and not Anakin?” She squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t look at him. Not after that.
She didn’t have to. Rex stood, and he took her gently by the shoulders, guiding her into standing as well. “Ahsoka.” But before he could say or do anything else, she lunged forward, gripping him tight, clinging to him, desperate for any shred of comfort she could find. He said nothing, just let her hold onto him, and he held her in return.
“What if it was Anakin? What if it was you?” The plastoid of his armor was rigid, uncomfortable, but she hardly noticed it. Rex was warm and alive, a stark contrast to the last person she’d held this closely. It was a welcome relief, an assurance she hadn’t realized she’d needed.
“I don't know.” He patted her back once, calling her attention. It took a moment, but when she brought herself to look up at him, he looked down at her with a smile– and though this one was small, it was genuine. “But I’ve got your back until then.”
Ahsoka blinked. She didn’t know what she’d expected him to say; it definitely wasn’t that, but– maybe it was what she needed to hear. Any promise that nothing would happen to any of them would be empty, and Rex wasn’t the type of man to make empty promises. It occurred to her that he hadn’t apologized even once. He’d just let her cry. Let her talk.
Maybe Anakin would’ve let her do the same. Maybe Master Plo would have. Maybe Obi-Wan would have. But none of them were here. She wasn’t supposed to be like this; she was supposed to be serene, balanced, and her mind was supposed to be unclouded by things like mourning or grief. She was supposed to be strong, unmovable, unaffected by things she couldn’t change. Yet here she was; hurting, confused, and a little lost, but Rex had offered her an anchor. She’d wound up at Rex’s door, and he’d given her a chance to be as emotional, as distracted, as attached as she wanted to be without reprimand.
She was constantly thankful for Rex; for his expertise, for his loyalty, for his friendship, and his ability to surprise her.
Ahsoka stood back and wiped her face. When she looked back up at Rex, his smile had widened. “I’ll always have your back, too,” she promised.
“I’ll hold you to that.”
She sniffled with a little laugh. “I’m sorry. For showing up like this, I mean. I should– I should go. I’m sure the Council will have something for us soon.”
He shook his head. “Don’t apologize. You’re part of the 501st, kid.” He squeezed her shoulder. “We’re all brothers. I’ll be here if you need me.”
She raised a brow.
“And sisters,” he corrected.
“Well. Thank you, Rex.” She paused. “And I’m proud. You know. To be your sister.”
“Good.”
They grinned at each other, then Ahsoka was on her way back to her own quarters. Once she was alone, the shadows seemed darker again, the air felt thicker, her own heartbeat felt louder, but there was a new warmth in the back of her mind. Brother. Sister. Before she could consider it for too long, her commlink beeped.
“Ahsoka.” She was surprised to hear Anakin’s voice. “We’ve got a mission.”
“Yes, Master.”
Obi-Wan was dead– that hurt wasn’t going to go away, that wasn’t going to change. But Anakin was still alive, and she had friends, had brothers; maybe, some day in the future, things could be okay again.